


Into a Quiet Corner

by Lanerose



Series: Lane's Yuri!!! On Ice Fics [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because the Author Says So That's Why, Dogs Can Smell Emotions, Gen, It is now, M/M, What Do You Mean That’s Not a Thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: When Makkachin's sitter gets sick, Victor brings Makkachin along to the Grand Prix Finals.  Yuuri, who has just gotten the news about Vicchan, reacts about as well as could be expected.





	

_“Dogs are wise. They crawl into a quiet corner and lick their wounds and do not rejoin the world until they are whole once again.” ~ Agatha Christie_

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            “Victor,” said Christophe, in a particularly droll tone, “what is _that_ doing here?”

 

            “That?” Victor asked. “What that?”

 

            “ _That_ that.” Christophe gave a very pointed look to the leash in Victor’s hand.

 

            “Don’t be so hurtful, Chris,” Victor scolded lightly, kneeling down and petting his dog’s head, “Makkachin isn’t a _that_. He’s Makkachin.”

 

            “Yes,” Christophe replied, “but what is he doing _here_?”

 

            Here, as it happened, was the Grand Prix Finals in Sochi. Victor and Christophe were standing in the competitor’s lounge, with about half an hour to go until they would be allowed onto the ice for warm-ups. Cao Bin was standing in one corner, stretching against the wall, and that Canadian guy sat on the floor near them, headphones in but music clearly low enough that he could hear them.

 

            The honest answer to Christophe’s question was that the dog-sitter Victor had hired suddenly got sick and Victor (with Yakov’s help) had begged the officials to let Makkachin come in. Yakov had given strict instructions that Victor should keep him by his side. He'd also said that if Makkachin started barking at all, Yakov would send Makkachin outside with little Yura and force Victor to leave him in St. Petersburg on every trip thereafter. So mostly, he was sitting as quietly as he could, with Victor doing everything he could to keep him calm.

 

            That was no fun, though, so Victor said instead, “He’s thinking of taking up skating, of course! You’d be beautiful on ice, wouldn’t you Makkachin?”

 

            And he cuddled his dog as Christophe rolled his eyes, sitting down beside him and beginning to stretch.   Victor sat back onto the ground and spread his legs wide, tucking Makkachin’s leash under his thigh as he, too, began to stretch.

 

            “Are you looking forward to today’s competition?” Christophe asked as he leaned over his right thigh, left hand reaching for the toes on his right foot.

 

            “Chris, don’t be silly,” Victor replied with a sly grin, “I’m always looking forward to my next gold medal.”

 

            “Someone’s confident.” Christophe laughed. “Although I suppose – “

 

            “RROWFF!” shouted Makkachin, tail wagging, his head lifting attentively. “RROWFF!”

 

            Victor turned, just in time to catch sight of Katsuki Yuuri, who had qualified for the GPF for the first time this year, and had been coming through the lounge door with an open bottle of water in his hands. Victor watched as Yuuri turned – saw the moment when he spotted Makkachin, his face going deadly pale as the bottle of water slipped from his fingers, crashing to the floor and spilling all over even as tears flooded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

 

            Yuuri turned around abruptly and took off down the hall. Makkachin was on his feet in the same instant, ripping his leash out from under Victor’s thigh and sprinting through the door, barking as he chased the Japanese boy.

 

            “Makkachin!” Victor shouted even as Christophe cried out for Yuuri from beside him. Victor snapped his legs together and rolled up to his feet, Chris doing likewise.

 

            “ _That_ could have gone better,” Chris snarked.

 

            “ _Makkachin_ didn’t mean anything by it,” Victor replied, heading straight for the door and stepping carefully over the still-growing puddle. “Yakov’s going to kill me. Do you know, is he afraid of dogs?”

 

            “I don’t think so,” Chris answered. They were out into the halls now, but the crowd had swallowed up both boy and dog. “I think he mentioned having a dog once, actually. His phone case has pictures of poodles on it.”

 

            Victor paused, looking at Chris, who only shrugged.

 

            “I’ll find Yuuri's coach and see if we can’t locate Yuuri,” Chris said. “ _You_ should locate your dog before it gets into any more trouble.”

 

            “Thanks, Chris,” Victor replied.

 

            Chris waved absently as he headed off.

 

            “Now where did you go, Makkachin?” Victor murmured.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            Yuuri couldn’t have said why it hit him so hard to see Makkachin in the prep room. Partly because of Vicchan, of course, but more than that the surprise, probably. He'd seen several dogs when he went out walking earlier – had, in fact, gone back to the hotel to avoid them. If nothing else, the ice rink should have been a dog free place. But there he was, a large and beautiful poodle who reminded him so much of his beloved Vicchan, sitting patiently beside a skater he recognized at a glance as Victor, and oh, _this_ was the Makkachin who had inspired Yuuri to get Vicchan in the first place and –

 

            Yuuri had torn out of the room, running blindly. Makkachin had barked, and Yuuri had heard paws on the linoleum, and ran faster into and through the crowd until he at last fetched up in a deserted staircase, where he ducked behind and under the stairs and sank down, hugging his knees to his chest as he crouched and let the sobs break free from his throat.

 

            “ごめん, Vicchan,” Yuuri mumbled. “ごめんなさい.”

 

            Vicchan had been the best dog any boy could have asked for. He was a beautiful brown poodle with warm brown eyes and a patient disposition, always up for a run to anywhere Yuuri was going and willing to wait steadfastly at the rink side or in the studio as Yuuri skated or danced his anxiety away. He’d even learned not to lick at the screen so that he could be on Facetime and Skype with Yuuri, and had looked so happy when Yuuri’s mother opened packages with the clothes and toys that carried Yuuri’s scent on them.

 

            Vicchan, who was warm and soft, and never used the dog bed because he wanted to be closer to Yuuri all the time, who cried if Yuuri forgot to let him into his room at night.

 

            Vicchan, who always found him when he was upset and would press against his back, leaning over his shoulder and –

 

            “Haa haa haa…” came a soft sound by his ears. Yuuri turned slowly and wasn’t as surprised as he thought he should have been when a warm wet tongue suddenly ran up his cheek.

 

            “Ah!” Yuuri gasped in surprise, overbalancing his crouch and falling back onto the floor. Makkachin took advantage of his momentary surprise to slip between his chest and his knees, keeping Yuuri from curling back up again as he placed his paws on Yuuri’s chest.

 

            Yuuri looked helplessly into Makkachin’s warm brown eyes, so like his Vicchan’s, and wrapped his arms around the dog, burying his face in Makkachin’s soft fur and sniffling.

 

            “ごめん, Vicchan,” Yuuri mumbled again. “ありがとう, Makkachin.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            “There you are Chris!” shouted Josef. The bald man hurried towards him. “Where have you been? It’s almost time for warm-ups.”

 

            “Where did you leave Victor?” Yakov, Victor’s coach, interjected. “The others said that they saw you leaving with him and that menace of a dog of his.”

 

            “What about Yuuri?” added Celestino, who Chris recalled from Skate America was Yuuri’s coach. Celestino whirled on Yakov, his ponytail nearly whacking Chris in the face from the speed of the turn. “What was that dog even doing here? Yuuri and Victor both would be here if you hadn’t brought the mutt along.”

 

            “The officials granted permission,” Yakov yelled back at Celestino. An official had followed them over and stepped closer, trying to insert herself between the skaters. Yakov ignored her, continuing loudly, “How were we supposed to know that your skater’s afraid of dogs?”

 

            “HE’S NOT!” Celestino shouted. Yakov drew back, an eyebrow raised. Celestino ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “If you had brought the dog to any other competition this year it probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but Yuuri’s poodle died this morning.”

 

            The official gasped. “This morning?”

 

            “This morning,” Celestino replied. “If I’d known there was a dog back here, especially a poodle, I would never have let him come in.”

 

            Chris cleared his throat.

 

            “Giacometti?”

 

            “Well,” Chris said, “it seems like there have been some unfortunate circumstances that are really no one’s fault. Wouldn’t it be all right to delay until they get back, just this once?”

 

            The official looked hesitant, glancing at her watch.

 

            “Victor did have permission to bring the dog,” Yakov said.

 

            “It would be a shame to disqualify two of my favorite competitors,” Chris tacked on.

 

            “I suppose…” the official said, looking at them, “since the organization isn’t blameless in these circumstances… But we really can’t wait more than fifteen minutes!”

 

            “And Yuuri’s supposed to be skating first,” Celestino sighed.

 

            “I wouldn’t mind switching positions with him – “

 

            “Chris!” Josef cut in, grabbing his arm. Chris put his free hand over the one Josef had on his arm.

 

            “Wouldn’t it be all right? In the spirit of good sportsmanship and all?” Chris winked at the official and his coach. “First or fifth, I’m always ready to go.”

 

            The official nodded hesitantly, and Chris found himself nearly knocked over by an Italian whirlwind who hugged him and booked it out the door. Yakov gave him a gruff nod that set a fond smile on Christophe’s face as the man hurried out after Celestino.

 

            “Well,” he said, pulling out his phone, “better let Victor know.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            Yuuri smelled sad. Makkachin had spotted it right away, the sort of aching _lonely_ that his Vitya sometimes had, augmented by loss, with the crisp coolness of the ice and that unfeignable, unmistakable sense of kindness suppressed beneath it. Someone so perfectly matched to his Vitya couldn’t be allowed to escape, so he had naturally followed after, trusting Vitya to find them. Eventually. Or maybe they’d find Vitya, once Yuuri (it had been nice of Chris to identify him) was ready to face the world again.

 

            He followed his nose, catching the scent near the door and following it down the corridor and through the crowd. Makkachin got slowed down a bit by all the people, including someone who stepped on the leash that was trailing after him, but eventually managed to find his way to the boy, forcing himself into Yuuri’s lap so that they could cuddle together while Yuuri got all the bad hurt loss lonely out of him. Humans were lucky to have spouts for that on either side of their nose.

 

            “Woof,” Makkachin said quietly, his tail fwip-fwiping across the floor, and then he waited patiently as the sound of Yuuri’s heartbeat and sobbing both slowly calmed into more even, easy patterns. Yuuri’s arms were like his scent – strong but kind, needing him but lacking harshness even as he clung to the stronger Makkachin.

 

            They stayed still a while, Yuuri letting the loss slide out of him and down Makkachin’s strong back.

 

            Eventually, Makkachin caught scent of a familiar _worried_ and ice and strong, his tail fwip-fwip-fwiping as it got steadily more potent, because Vitya was terribly clever and had found them after all.

 

            “Woof,” Makkachin said again, careful not to dislodge his Yuuri even as his Vitya drew close.

 

            “There you are,” Vitya replied, _worry_ easing a little. Yuuri startled, turning his head and letting go of Makkachin.

 

            “Ah, sorry,” Yuuri said, _tension_ creeping back into him as he tried gently to push Makkachin’s forepaws onto the ground beside him.. Makkachin stayed right where he was, leaning forward so he could nuzzle against Yuuri’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to run off with your dog.”

 

            “I was actually looking for you,” Victor answered, and he was close enough now to put his hand on Makkachin’s head, stroking it and scritching in the best spot behind his ears, “though of course I’m pleased to see that Makkachin’s been taking good care of you.”

 

            “Ah.” Yuuri’s face went red and he stared down at the ground.

 

            “Rwoof,” Makkachin interjected, licking at Yuuri’s cheek.

 

            Vitya crouched down beside them.

 

            “Chris heard from Celestino and told me about your dog,” Vitya said, and whatever it meant couldn’t be good because Yuuri’s breathing hitched again, _loss_ thickening and pouring down his face. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine if it were Makkachin – “

 

            “ROWFF!” Makkachin interrupted loudly, because the _hurt sorrow loss loss loss_ from the two of them was too much. Vitya stroked Makkachin’s head again.

 

            After a moment, Vitya reached out and placed a tentative hand on Yuuri’s arm.

 

            “We don’t have much time to get back if you want to skate,” Vitya said. “The warm-up is over and – “

 

            “I’m supposed to skate first!” Yuuri scrambled to his feet, _panic-sweat_ around him and would have hit his head on the stairs if Vitya hadn’t restrained him, taking his hand off Makkachin to rest both on Yuuri’s arms.

 

            “It’s all right.” Vitya ran his hands up and down Yuuri’s upper arms. “Chris convinced the organizers to let him switch with you, so you’ll skate fifth, if you think you’re up for it? Or sixth, if you prefer, since it’s my fault you’re upset in the first place.”

 

            “How is it your fault that my dog died?” Yuuri asked, and the _surprise_ drowned out even his _loss_ and Vitya’s _guilt_.

 

            Makkachin pressed the advantage, leaning forward to lick the _loss_ off Yuuri’s face.

 

            “Makkachin,” Yuuri said with a laugh, and wasn’t Yuuri terribly clever to already know who Makkachin was?

 

            Yuuri sighed. Vitya slid his hands down Yuuri’s arms until he was holding his hands, and Makkachin had to scramble off to the side as Vitya pulled Yuuri out from under the stairs and onto his feet.

 

            “I’ll skate fifth,” Yuuri said once he was on his feet. “It’s kind enough of Chris to have switched already, and I don’t want to have to worry about skating while I’m watching your performance.”

 

            “Don’t worry at all,” Vitya replied, squeezing Yuuri’s hands. Makkachin twined himself through Yuuri’s legs. “I’m sure that – “

 

            And he paused, oddly. Yuuri smiled.

 

            “Vicchan,” he said, that soft smile still on his face.

 

            “Vicchan,” Vitya repeated. “I’m sure that Vicchan will be watching over your skate to make it your best ever.”

 

            Yuuri said nothing at first. Then he nodded his head, and suddenly the solid, earthy scent of _determination_ swelled up around him. He squeezed Vitya’s hands, and separated himself from Makkachin, stepping back the way they had come.

 

            “Shall we go?” Yuuri said, a tiny and fragile smile forming on his face, and _surprise pleasure_ flooded Vitya as he smiled back.

 

            “Let’s,” Vitya replied. Vitya vent down and gathered the leash that Makkachin had been dragging along the ground. “You too, Makkachin!”

 

            “Rowf!”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            “He’s very brave, Makkachin,” Victor said, scratching Makkachin behind his ears as they watched Yuuri head out onto the ice for his short program. “We’ll have to watch out for Yuuri from here on in.”

 

            Makkachin barked cheerfully, as if in agreement.

 

            Yakov sighed, resisting the urge to bury his face in his palm. Heaven save him from skaters and dogs.

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Yuri on Ice Wikia, Chris’s coach is named Josef Karpisek. Not sure how we’re supposed to know that, but unless/until someone gives me a reason to call him something else, I’m going with it. ^.^;;;
> 
> Yuuri's lines in Japanese are all variations on "Sorry, Vicchan," or "I'm so sorry," and then he says "thank you" to Makkachin.
> 
> Also, it's a little early, but happy new year!!
> 
> Concrit always welcome!


End file.
